The Calm of Night (Kansas Crossroads Book 10)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Will you be able to take care of all these people?” he asked as he looked around the room. There were probably fifty displaced persons looking lost and bewildered standing on all sides and seated at the tables.

  “We’re very well accustomed to feeding this many and more, but it’s tonight I’m worried about. We don’t have rooms for them all—several will have to share, and I know we don’t have a blanket apiece.”

  Mr. Brody stepped to the front where Colonel Gordon had stood just a moment before, and all eyes turned to him. “I’m sorry for this horrible inconvenience, but we’ll do our best to make sure your needs are met,” he said. “In just a few minutes, I’ll be meeting with my staff to determine how we’ll proceed. In the meantime, please get warm, have some coffee, and make yourselves as comfortable as you can.”

  Two of the waitresses came out of the kitchen with pots of coffee, which they set on the nearest table, then came back again with trays of cups. Miss Morgan turned to Timothy with an anxious look on her face. “I’m sorry to ask, but would you be willing to lend a hand? We all need to meet with Mr. Brody and create a plan—could you oversee the coffee pots and make sure everyone gets some?”

  “Well, as I don’t seem to be going anywhere, I’m happy to help,” Timothy replied.

  “Thank you so much.” Miss Morgan’s eyes shone with gratitude, and that was all the thanks he needed. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.” She moved off in the direction of Mr. Brody’s office, and Timothy edged through the crowd until he stood next to the coffee.

  “Please line up,” he called out, and soon, everyone had made a neat queue. He could do this—if he didn’t spill everything on the table.

  ***

  The tension was thick as everyone gathered in Mr. Brody’s office. Even young Rose seemed to feel it as she went from Harriet’s arms into her mama’s, and Mrs. Brody held her close.

  “I knew we needed to have a meeting, but I didn’t realize it would need to be on this scale,” Mr. Brody said with a chuckle. “Let’s start at the beginning and work our way forward. Tom has set up a rope system for anyone needing to move about the property for any reason. You are to hold on to those ropes and do not let go—visibility is all but lost outside.”

  Tom spoke up. “As far as going out to the pump is concerned, I’ve just filled up several buckets, but I’m not sure we’re going to get much more water than that, as it’s freezing up. Our best bet will be to melt snow on the stove. There’s plenty of that available. We can decide what we’ll use the snow water for and what we’ll use the pump water for.”

  Mr. Brody nodded. “Seems reasonable. And I know you said the cottage was warm, but I’d feel better if you moved into the hotel, especially with Harriet’s condition and the fact that you’re taking care of my daughter. I’d like to keep everyone under the same roof.”

  “We can do that.” Tom put a hand on his wife’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’d rather she not be alone out there while I’m working.”

  Mr. Brody picked up a pen and then dropped it on the table. “My next big concern is your wedding, Sarah.”

  The pretty cook raised and lowered her shoulders. “We certainly didn’t know any of this was going to happen when we set the date, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. We can postpone. At least Stephen is here at the hotel and not trapped across town or something, and I know he’s safe.”

  “You have a marvelous attitude,” Mr. Brody told her. “Nancy Ann, how are we on rooms and bedding?”

  The concern she’d felt before had only been growing as she heard everyone speak. “We can divide the passengers up into groups of men and women and make beds for them on the floors of the rooms, but I’m worried about having enough blankets. I’m also concerned about breaking up families and married couples, but we don’t have the luxury of giving them each their own space.”

  “Hopefully, they’ll understand. Elizabeth, can you help Nancy Ann make a list of our guests and then decide how to arrange them?”

  “Of course,” she replied as she rocked back and forth with the baby. “And yes, they’ll understand. They’ll have to. Or we’ll throw them out into the snow.” Her face showed a smile and her tone was light, but Nancy Ann could sense the strain this was causing. She was glad she was only the assistant manager in charge of lodging—Elizabeth was the hotel general manager, and everything was her responsibility.

  “Sarah, how are we on provisions?” Mr. Brody asked.

  “We should have enough to feed everyone for four days,” Sarah replied.

  “Excellent. Does anyone have questions?” Mr. Brody looked around the room, but no one spoke up. “All right, let’s get busy. Nancy Ann, Elizabeth, I think the largest burden is on you now, figuring out the rooms. Harriet, thank you for watching Rose this afternoon, but I’ll take over now—I’d like you and Tom to concentrate on getting moved into the hotel.”

  Harriet nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.” She still had a few months before she would deliver, but Nancy Ann had been a little concerned about her and how hard she sometimes worked.

  Everyone filed out of the office, clear on their assignments. Elizabeth walked around the dining room, speaking with all the train passengers and getting a count of men versus women and so forth. Nancy Ann needed to inventory their spare blankets, so she picked up her skirts and began to climb the stairs to the second floor and the linen closet.

  “Miss Morgan! Wait!”

  At first, she thought it was Mr. Hancock calling her, but when she turned, she saw that it was Gilbert Howard. “Yes?”

  “Listen, I know this is a horribly awkward time, but I wondered if I might speak with you.”

  “Do you mind following me around while I work? There are some things I really need to get done.”

  “No, not at all.” He took the stairs that separated them two at a time and came alongside her as she continued on her way. “I wondered if you could help me with a concern.”

  “Well, I’ll certainly try. What seems to be the matter?”

  “It’s just . . . all these people. Where are you going to put them?”

  “That’s what we’re figuring out right now.” Nancy Ann opened the door to the linen closet and began to count. “Hmmm. Here—hold these.” She plopped a stack of blankets in Mr. Howard’s arms.

  “I imagine that you’ll need to have several of them share rooms,” he went on.

  “Yes, that is the case—we don’t have fifty separate rooms, you see.” What an odd thing to ask. Did he think they were in New York City?

  “Is it possible for that not to be the case for everyone?”

  Nancy Ann added another five blankets to the stack he held, then paused. “Mr. Howard, we’re in somewhat of a rushed state at the moment, and I don’t have time for games. Please just ask whatever it is you’re trying to ask.”

  Mr. Howard nodded. “I’d rather not share my room.”

  Of all the . . . “All that hemming and hawing, and that’s what you were leading up to?”

  “Yes. You see, I’m not very good with sharing quarters. My temperament isn’t suited for it, and I sleep much better when I’m alone.”

  Nancy Ann couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Your temperament? Your temperament? Mr. Howard, there is a blizzard raging outside. The marshal of the town of Topeka was just here to announce a state of emergency. We have been locked down. Fifty people are now in our care. They have nowhere to go, and we are going to make them as comfortable as we possibly can. It’s our job as human beings, not just our job as hoteliers. You may not stand there and tell me that it’s not in your temperament to share. You will be sharing everything. If you have a razor, and someone here needs a razor, you will share it. If you have a clean shirt, and someone here needs a clean shirt, guess what? You will share it. Now take those blankets downstairs, set them on the couch in the parlor, and tell Mrs. Brody we have twenty spares. Move! We don’t have time for this nonsense!”

  He blinked, took a step
back, and then headed down the stairs. It was a good thing he’d taken himself out of her sight—she was so angry, she could have wrung his neck without giving it a second thought. Who on earth did he think he was? She’d heard Sarah talk about the Howard family and their belief that they were above virtually every other person on the planet, so she should have been prepared, but to see it so blatantly displayed, right in front of her . . . She took a deep breath and began counting sheets. Staying busy was the best way to overcome this blossoming fury.

  Harriet and Tom came up the stairs a few minutes later, their arms full of bedding and satchels. “Elizabeth told us we should check in with you,” Harriet said. “We had ten blankets in the cottage and we can get by with two, so we had eight to spare. We gave them to that rather sour-looking young man who’s making a blanket pile in the parlor.”

  “Thank you. Now, I was thinking we’d put you two in room three—”

  Tom held up his hand. “We appreciate you wanting to keep us together, but we were talking about it, and we think it would save space if Harriet slept upstairs with the waitresses and you put me in a room with other men.”

  Nancy Ann stopped and put her hand on her hip. “Now see, this is what I’m talking about. People who are willing to sacrifice their own personal comforts so everyone can be cared for. It’s really not that difficult!”

  Tom raised an eyebrow. “Someone giving you a hard time?”

  “Yes, that sour-looking young man making the blanket pile in the lobby.” Nancy Ann straightened her shoulders—they were becoming tense from all her frustration. “No matter—we don’t need him to cooperate. We’ll carry on without him. Thank you for your generosity. Harriet, there are two vacant beds upstairs, so choose whichever you like. Tom, you’ll be here, in room one.” Somehow, the thought of putting Tom in with the sour-faced young man seemed like the right thing to do . . . and not just a little bit amusing.

  Chapter Five

  Timothy finished pouring out the coffee, and the second cook, who had introduced herself to him as Ruth, brought more. As he handed out refills, he spoke with the train passengers, and was happy to find that most of them were in good spirits. They’d known when they started out that the weather was getting worse, and they were just grateful that the Brody had taken them in.

  “Why did you leave home if you knew there was a storm coming in?” he asked Laura, the woman who seemed close to delivery.

  “It wasn’t a smart choice, but sometimes, a thing will build and build inside you until you know it’s the right thing, and if you don’t do it, you’ll be going against the laws of nature. Have you ever felt that way?”

  “Well, I don’t know that I ever have felt that strongly convicted about something.” Timothy refilled her cup. “What was this thing that was building up for you?”

  “My husband found a job in Kansas City, and he’s been sending money back to me so I can join him. But as my time got closer, we decided I should stay put at my sister’s house. I woke up three days ago with the strongest feeling that I needed to be with him. I ignored it and ignored it until all of a sudden, I found myself at the ticket booth.” She shrugged. “I didn’t make it far, but at least I’m trying to follow that feeling. I guess I’ll figure out what it all means someday.”

  “I hope so. I know I’d certainly be curious about it, if I were in your shoes.” Timothy moved on to the next person until everyone had the chance for a refill. Then he set the coffee pot on the table nearest the kitchen and went in search of Miss Morgan. Maybe there was something he could do to help her.

  As he crossed the lobby toward the staircase, the front door all but blew open, bringing with it two persons who were bundled from head to toe. Their arms were full of bags and blankets, and he stepped forward to catch some of the things before they were dropped on the floor.

  “Thank you, Timothy,” said the taller of the two snow-covered newcomers.

  “Pastor?” The voice sounded familiar, but it was hard to tell through all those layers of scarves.

  “That’s right. You’re stranded here too?”

  “I am. Why did you come out in this mess? The marshal said everyone was to stay put.”

  Pastor Osbourne began unwinding the scarves from around his face, as did his wife at his side. “True, but I’m scheduled to officiate at a wedding this evening, and I’ve never missed an appointment yet.”

  “Pastor? Olivia?”

  Timothy turned at the new voice. It was Mrs. Brody, coming into the lobby from the dining room. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “My husband decided it was better to be snowbound with friends than by ourselves, so we grabbed what we could and headed over,” Mrs. Osbourne replied. “It’s a good thing we know these streets so well—it would have been very easy to get lost.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad you didn’t,” Mrs. Brody said, stepping forward to help Mrs. Osbourne with her last coat.

  “Now, where are the bride and groom?” the pastor asked, looking around.

  “Sarah’s in the kitchen making bread, and Stephen’s chopping vegetables,” Mrs. Brody said, looking amused.

  “But why aren’t they getting ready? This is the first day of the rest of their lives!”

  “They decided it was best to wait because of the storm,” Mrs. Brody explained.

  “Well, as long as the family’s here, why put it off? Let’s bring some joy into this unhappy situation,” the pastor suggested.

  Mrs. Brody seemed to contemplate that. “It’s up to them, of course, but I’m certainly game.”

  “In the meantime, we brought some extra blankets and coffee,” Mrs. Osbourne said. “I hope they’ll be helpful.”

  “I’m sure they will be.” Mrs. Brody looked over at Timothy. “Mr. Hancock, could you please take those blankets into the parlor just there? I believe Mr. Howard is collecting them, and we’ll distribute them in a bit.”

  “Of course.” Timothy gathered up the blankets the Osbournes had brought and carried them into the parlor, where he found Mr. Howard sitting in a chair near the fireplace. “More donations,” he said. “Where would you like them?”

  “On the sofa.” Mr. Howard flapped his hand that direction.

  Timothy set them down, then joined the other man at the fire. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Timothy Hancock.”

  “Gilbert Howard.” He returned the shake, but he seemed to do it begrudgingly.

  “And you’re here for the wedding, I believe?” Timothy asked.

  “That’s right. My brother decided to settle down out here in this godforsaken place, and I supposed I might as well come for the happy event.” Mr. Howard flicked something off his pant leg. “Tell me. Do you know Miss Morgan at all?”

  “I know her a bit,” Timothy said. Somehow it didn’t seem right to say that she was the reason he was stuck here at the hotel. Then again, he really didn’t mind being stuck.

  “I met her when I first arrived, and I must say, there’s something about her that caught my attention. She gave me quite the dressing-down a moment ago, and I’m rather ashamed of myself about it.”

  Timothy’s hackles immediately rose. If this man had said or done anything to offend Miss Morgan, it didn’t matter if he was the brother of the groom—Timothy would punch him square in the nose. “What happened?” he asked, deciding it was best to get more information before leaping into action.

  “I asked if I could retain my own room for the night rather than sharing, and she very neatly put me to rights. I’ve always been a selfish man—I always considered it my privilege. I am, after all, a Denver Howard. But as time goes on, I’m coming to realize that doesn’t mean what I thought it meant, and it’s of no use at all outside of Denver.”

  Why was everyone in this hotel choosing to confide in Timothy? He had no earthly idea. Maybe there was something friendly in his face. Perhaps now that Pastor Osbourne was there, Timothy would be let off the hook—he didn’t feel he did well in the ro
le of confessor. Especially when he rather wanted to give Mr. Howard a dressing-down of his own.

  “I suggest that the person you should be talking to about this is Miss Morgan,” Timothy said. “Where is she, anyway?”

  “She was counting linens upstairs when I saw her a moment ago,” Mr. Howard replied.

  “I’ll go see if she needs some help.” Timothy rose from his seat.

  “Put in a good word for me, if you don’t mind,” Mr. Howard said. “You can tell her that I’m gazing into the fire, contemplating my wicked deeds and feeling unutterably sorry for every one of them.”

  “Um, I’ll mention your name, but I doubt I’ll be able to relay quite that exact message,” Timothy said. It was time for him to go.

  ***

  Nancy Ann stood in the doorway of room four, envisioning how many people they’d be able to fit in the space. Of course, some would be in beds and some would be on the floor—there simply wasn’t a way around that.

  “Do you need any help?”

  She looked over her shoulder at the voice. “Not at the moment, but thank you, Mr. Hancock.”

  He leaned against the wall and chuckled. “I don’t know what you said to Mr. Howard, but he asked me to tell you that he’s feeling pretty repentant right now.”

  “Good. That’s exactly how he should be feeling.” Nancy Ann jotted down a figure on the square of paper she held in her hand.

  “You know, you’re something else, Miss Morgan. I’ve never seen anyone leap right into the middle of a challenge and tackle it like you’ve done with this. It’s quite impressive, really.”

  His compliment made her cheeks feel warm. “It’s nothing. I’m the oldest of a houseful of children, my father was killed in the war, and I was often called upon to help out. I suppose that organizing large groups of people comes rather naturally in cases like that.”

  “Your father was killed? How old were you?”

  “Twelve.”

  Mr. Hancock shook his head and followed her as she walked to the next room to take a count there as well. “That’s a heavy burden. My father was also in the war, but he survived. I can’t imagine losing him—I’m sorry for all you’ve been through.”